


Spiraling

by silentdescant



Category: Actor RPF, Teen Wolf (TV) RPF
Genre: Anxiety, Caretaking, Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Implied Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 15:07:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16328354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentdescant/pseuds/silentdescant
Summary: JR provides some comfort and stability for Ian.





	Spiraling

JR pulls his phone out of his pocket when it vibrates, but he doesn’t end his conversation yet. Siah’s gesturing animatedly at one of her daughter’s art pieces on the wall, and then toward another across the room, and he doesn’t want to interrupt her. But then he glances down and sees Ian’s name on the screen and he breaks into a grin. He puts his hand on Siah’s arm gently and murmurs that he’ll just be a second, then brings the phone to his ear.

“Bobo! Hey, man, I’ve missed you.”

“Are you in town?”

“Depends on what town you’re talkin’ about. I’m in LA right now.”

“Oh, thank god,” Ian breathes. “I’m almost—I mean, are you even—Are you busy?”

“Not really. I’m just—”

“Can I come over?”

JR pauses, looking back at Siah, who’s waiting patiently for him to end his call. “I’m not home right now, Ian,” he says.

“Oh. Oh, shit, okay. Yeah, sure, I’ll just—”

“Are you driving, Bobo?”

“Yeah.”

“Where are you? I was gonna grab lunch in the Valley in a little bit, do you wanna meet somewhere?”

“I’m like… at your house. Sorry. Yeah, lunch, we can do lunch.”

JR holds up his finger to Siah and mouths _Sorry_ , then heads for the secluded little hallway that leads to the bathrooms. The gallery isn’t that big, but he feels like his voice is echoing in the wide open room, and there are too many people around. “You doin’ okay, Bobo?”

Ian exhales sharply, explosively, and JR winces at the sudden rush of sound in his ear.

“Ian?”

“I’m fine, I just wanted to talk. I need to get out of my head, Jay.”

“There’s a key in the hanging plant by the back door,” JR says calmly. “Why don’t you go inside and I’ll head on back.”

“You’re out, you already have plans, you’re busy—”

“I was just going to get something to eat since I’m already here, but I’m not doing anything important,” JR says. “Do you want me to bring you home something? Are you hungry?”

“I’m fine. I’ll just go back home and we can hang out later,” Ian says in the falsely cheery voice that tells JR very clearly that he’s not fine. “I should’ve called first. Let me know when you’re free and we can hang out.”

“I’m coming home,” JR says firmly. “Go inside and relax. I’ll be there in like 30… 40 minutes, okay?”

He listens to Ian’s slow exhale, and hears the faint sound of his car turning off in the background. “Okay.”

“I’ll be home soon, Bobo. Have a drink. I’ll see you in a bit.”

When he rejoins Siah a moment later, she’s leaning in close to a painting, her hands neatly tucked into her back pockets. He touches her elbow. “I’m sorry, I gotta head out. My friend’s having an emergency.”

“Is he okay?” she asks.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine, I just need to be there for him. We’ll catch up later, okay? Tell Jessie the paintings are beautiful.”

Once he’s in traffic, there’s really no point in getting antsy. He can’t do anything about the snail’s pace of the 10. He finds himself tapping on the steering wheel anyway, though, and glancing down at his phone every few minutes, where it sits on the passenger seat. It remains silent. He’s not really expecting Ian to call back, though.

JR pulls up to his house a little over half an hour later and finds Ian’s car in the street out front. He parks in the driveway and goes in through the front door. “Ian?”

“In here!” Ian calls back. He’s in the kitchen, which is a disaster of bowls and pans and ingredients, and JR peers into the pot on the stove curiously.

“What’cha making, Bo?”

“I was going to bake something but you don’t have enough flour so I went with pasta instead. Spaghetti. You don’t have any ground beef, though. You don’t have much of anything, really. I thought about maybe going to the store, but—”

“Should’ve called. I could’ve stopped on my way home.”

“I didn’t wanna… Well. Whatever. We’ve got pasta and sauce, at least.” Ian keeps moving around the kitchen, checking bowls and stirring the pasta and adding garlic to another pot.

JR watches him for a few minutes, noting the way Ian won’t _stop_ moving. JR finally grabs his shoulder and reels him in, pulling him backwards against JR’s chest for a one-sided hug. He wraps both arms around Ian’s front to hold him still.

“Missed you,” JR murmurs.

Ian squeezes JR’s wrist. “Missed you too. Pasta’s almost done. I think the sauce will be ready in a minute too.”

JR doesn’t care about the clutter of abandoned cooking projects littering his countertops—he’s been known to leave things out for a few days, himself—but he starts putting away unused ingredients and clean dishes anyway. He puts everything dirty in the sink to wash later. It’s probably better, right now, for Ian to have space and clean counters.

“You want a drink, Bobo? Maybe some water?” At Ian’s hesitation, JR then offers, “Something stronger?”

“No, no. I’ll get some water.”

“Some weed?”

Ian rolls his eyes. “Jay.”

“Just asking.”

Ian plates the food and leaves it on the now clean center island, bracing himself with both hands against the counter. JR watches him. He won’t move until Ian does, but Ian suddenly isn’t moving at all. JR takes both plates to the kitchen table, then comes back for a couple of glasses for water. He touches Ian’s arm to get his attention.

“Come sit down, Bo. Let’s talk.”

Ian sits in his usual chair by the window, the spot he always seems to gravitate toward. He’s turned to face the little rock garden outside.

“You need to refill your bird feeder,” he says.

“I only just got back into town three days ago. Haven’t even gone grocery shopping. As you noticed.”

“Yeah. Where were you this time? I lost track, I’m sorry.”

JR keeps his voice steady and low when he answers, “Vancouver for a couple weeks. Hey, Bo, talk to me.”

“I am talking to you. We’re talking.”

Their food sits untouched between them. JR reaches out and takes hold of Ian’s forearm. A solid, heavy grip that he can’t easily pull out of, but JR makes a point not to grab him somewhere vulnerable, like his wrist, or too intimate, like his hand. He rubs his thumb back and forth, smoothing out a wrinkle in Ian’s sleeve.

Ian doesn’t pull away, never has, but JR can feel the tightness in his arm, the tension.

“What’s got you so twisted up, babe?”

Ian laughs and it sounds harsh, forced. “Like it’s gotta be _something_. Just my fuckin’ brain, man.”

“Drink some water,” JR tells him, and Ian does. “Spaghetti looks great. Let’s eat a little first.”

JR doesn’t let go of Ian’s arm, so they both eat one-handed, twirling noodles sloppily. JR waits until Ian’s taken a few bites before he asks, “What’s goin’ on in your head, Bobo?”

The story comes spilling out in rapid-fire sentences, Ian’s voice as tight as his body with frustration and annoyance and even outright anger. At himself, at his situation, at others. His emotions are shifting even as he tells JR what’s going on, and it’s hard to keep up, but JR doesn’t really need to follow everything. He just needs to be an outlet, and that’s easy. He keeps up the steady pressure of his hand on Ian’s arm, the soft motion of his thumb rubbing back and forth, and he hums along in acknowledgement, interrupting every few minutes to tell Ian to take a sip of water or a bite of food.

Ian always does, even mid-sentence, like it’s automatic, like he doesn’t even realize he’s following JR’s instructions. It’s how JR knows he’s caught up in his own mind.

“It’s okay,” he says when Ian’s finally winding down, preempting the apologies he knows are coming next. “We’ll clean up later.”

“I just fuckin’ barge in and destroy your house and pull you away from things—”

“I already told you it wasn’t important.” JR stands up and pulls Ian with him. His hand lands on the back of Ian’s neck and he squeezes and pulls and urges Ian into the living room. “And you made me lunch, so I didn’t even have to stop for food.”

They sit down beside each other on the couch and JR doesn’t take his hand off Ian’s neck. He feels the tension and anxiety start to bunch up in Ian’s shoulders. “Sorry, I’m just, like… spiraling, I don’t know. I feel like I can’t make a goddamn decision without help. I’m a fucking mess, Jay, I don’t know what—”

“We’ll sit down and we can figure some stuff out, okay? Bobo, I’m gonna tell you a secret. There’s no wrong answers. You’re a smart guy. You can’t make a bad choice here. It’s all just options. Different paths. Anything you choose is gonna be fine. Okay? Ian, you listening?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Okay, so you’ve got options. That’s not a bad thing. Let’s sort it out. Let’s figure out what you _want_.”

Ian lists sideways, collapsing in slow motion until his head is pillowed on JR’s chest. JR slides his hand around and rubs Ian’s side, pushing his fingers against his ribs until he feels Ian sigh heavily.

“I don’t know what I want. That’s why this is all freaking me out, I think.”

JR hums and drops a kiss to the back of Ian’s head. “It’s okay, babe. I’ll help you.”

 

 _fin_.


End file.
